


Swish

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Public Orgasm, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 04:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13710186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis is a bad driver with worse motives.





	Swish

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Noctis purposefully drives badly knowing his boyfriend has a plug inside his anus that stimulates his prostate every time he hits a pothole ++ Iggy coming in his pants” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=8976011#cmt8976011).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The roads seem unusually slow almost everywhere now, but this area is particularly quiet, and that’s for the best—Noctis _tries_ to keep his eyes on the road, but he doesn’t always succeed. It’s incredibly difficult when Ignis is sitting in the passenger seat, twitching and shifting and horribly obvious. It’s a wonder Gladiolus and Prompto don’t ask what’s wrong with him. Maybe they can’t tell from their places in the back. When Noctis purposely swerves to hit another pothole, Gladiolus growls, “Watch where you’re going!”

Noctis answers, “Sorry,” even though he’s smirking. Ignis’ entire body has tensed. It makes it _so_ worth it. He leans against the door of the car, elbow resting atop it and gloved hand pressed over his mouth. The wind would probably drown out his sharp noises anyway, but Noctis likes to think he can hear them. Maybe he’s just got them memorized. He knows every sound Ignis has ever made. And Ignis makes them beautifully.

Ignis has always been handsome. But he’s especially tantalizing like this: putty in Noctis’ hands. A dirt trail splits off the main road up ahead, and Noctis jerks onto it none too gently. It jostles them all. Gladiolus shouts again, Prompto yelping. Ignis scrunches his eyes closed, taut chest arching back, thighs spreading open, only to clamp together again and rub over one another. The bulge in the front of his pants is ridiculously prominent. It’s difficult not to stare. But Noctis has that sight memorized too, and he does keep at least one eye on the path. The dirt road is ten times worse than the paved one. Ignis looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Hey—what’s this?” Prompto asks suddenly. Noctis’ eyes flicker up to the mirror to see—Prompto’s got a small, black remote in his hand. For a second, Noctis goes pale—it must’ve fallen out of his pocket and rolled beneath the seat. He has to remind himself that Prompto probably won’t know what it is. Gladiolus must not either, or he’d already be laughing. Prompto goes on, “Looks like some kinda remote... what’d you think it does?”

“Dunno,” Noctis lies, casual and composed. Ignis’ eyes have crinkled with foreshadowed horror, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s been understandably quiet for the duration of their ride. When his eyes catch on Noctis’ heated gaze, Noctis adds, “Why don’t you try using it?”

He knows the second that Prompto does. Ignis goes rigid, eyes widening, and Noctis knows _exactly_ what’s happening to his stoic boyfriend. He can easily picture the thick plastic plug stuffed snugly into Ignis’ tight hole flaring to life, vibrating away against the confines of his briefs. The plush seating in the Regalia has probably been kind to his abused rear, but Noctis’ driving hasn’t, and Prompto must’ve clicked one of the higher settings, given the way that Ignis is practically trembling. Perhaps because of how _composed_ he always seems, it’s all the more exhilarating to watch Ignis come undone. Not that Noctis hasn’t undone Ignis a hundred times. Every round is still exciting. Noctis can’t resist him.

Noctis runs over the next rock he sees, and the next one, going out of his way to bash the poor Regalia’s tires, just to see Ignis’ desperation. Gladiolus swears at the awful driving, but Prompto just hums, “Huh, I can’t figure it out... I don’t think it’s doing anything...”

Clearly, it is. Ignis makes a choked noise that almost sounds like a sob. The path up ahead is winding back onto the concrete road, but Noctis is seriously considering veering off into the plains.

A hand clamps over his thigh. It squeezes tightly, and Noctis looks over. Ignis’ face is flushed, panting behind his hand, eyes thickly dilated and chest heaving. Then Noctis’ eyes trail down his lean body, in between his legs, where a wet patch has stained the front of his pants. 

Noctis tries to hide his smirk. He really does. And he takes pity on Ignis, steering back onto the real road. He even tells Prompto, “Pass it here, Prom. I’ll have a look in a sec—I think we should pull over at the next pit stop and switch drivers again.”

“’Bout time,” Gladiolus mutters.

Prompto chirps, “Sure thing, bud,” and passes the remote up. Before Noctis can take it, Ignis snatches it and hastily turns it off. Noctis heads for the hotel looming in the distance, grinning the entire time.


End file.
